


A Touch Starved Vampire in the City

by Centeris2



Series: Poly Pile [4]
Category: Star Stable
Genre: F/M, I was just getting ideas and indulgences out, I was writing this all at once and it was like 4 am?, Poly Pile AU, dunno if I will rewrite this though?, if I rewrote this I'd stretch it out and pace it better, if this feels weird and rushed its because, no chapters we die in 28 pages with no breaks like fools, rated for language, sorry 29 pages, spoilers Scott is not a vampire but it is a running joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centeris2/pseuds/Centeris2
Summary: Rebecca decides to make Scott her new friend project. Scott doesn't know how to handle friends.





	A Touch Starved Vampire in the City

“You know, I can help with the bridge. Or get you some help,” Rebecca startled Scott Buttergood when she spoke behind him.

“I don’t need help. What would you know about building a bridge anyway?” Scott snapped. He was not in the mood, another setback and sabotage by CHILL had made Junior and his father more irritable than normal, and with Robert hiding somewhere in a field Scott was the one who got the brunt of the anger. 

“Well I repaired the bridge connecting the Harvest Counties and Silverglade. I also worked on the bridge connecting New Hillcrest to South Hoof,” Rebecca informed him, leaning forward in the saddle while Midnightwarrior sniffed the ground.

“Right. Anything else? Saved the world?” Scott asked sarcastically, put off when Rebecca laughed darkly.

“That’s a work in progress,” she said with a smirk.

“So, if it’s not the bridge, what do you need help with?” she continued when he said nothing.

“What?”

“My someone needs help senses were tingling,” she joked, “so I thought I’d drop by.”

“What are you going to do, build the bridge for me?” Scott rolled his eyes.

“Yeah sure,” she smiled.

“What?”

“What? I asked if you needed help, and if you need me to build the bridge-”

“Why would you do that?” Scott asked suspiciously.

“Because you need help? Duh?” Rebecca shrugged.

“But why would you help?” Scott asked again, bewildered by her intentions.

“Because I like helping people. What is so strange about that?” Rebecca asked with a grin. She knew what was strange about it, no one helped the Buttergoods if they could avoid it, as the Buttergoods never did any favors for anyone.

“I can build my own damn bridge!” he snapped, feeling insulted.

“Alright, do you need any materials? Reports written?”

“No I don’t need any of that!” Scott shouted this time before he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down so his face was hidden by his wide brim hat.

“Having trouble with the bridge?” she asked politely. She knew they had been having trouble, but she had not been responsible for it.

“What does it matter to you?” he grumbled.

“Well considering I would like to use this bridge without risking a jump to my death, helping you with the bridge helps me.”

“So that’s why you want to help so bad,” he sighed, finally understanding. At least until she shook her head.

“Nah, I just know you’re used to hearing selfish reasons and accepting those. This bridge would help a lot more than just me, and you’d be able to spend your time on things you actually enjoy.”

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Scott groaned.

“The rock around The Great Thunder is too unstable, it crumbles and gives way. It’d be better to put the anchors for the bridge beyond the rock so you have a secure connection. Suspension cables may be a good way to support the structure, since you won’t be able to put any supports underneath into The Great Thunder.”

Scott stared at her for a moment before he took off his hat and fanned his face. Standing around in the summer sun got very hot.

“Alright, Miss Rebecca, what do you want?” Scott asked, not commenting on her suggestions. They were good though, he should get some cables and figure out anchor points further from the edge.

“Damn, I was hoping to get you to smile. You look like you need one,” Rebecca pouted.

“What?”

“You question me a lot, am I really that strange?” Rebecca teased.

“Absolutely,” he said without second thought. She was very strange. 

“I hope that means I’m not boring at least, now then, do you want to get out of here?”

“What? Err, what do you mean?” he elaborated, now self conscious. Why was he saying what so many times? He sounded like an idiot! He wasn’t an idiot!

“You and I both know you won’t be getting any work done on this bridge, so why not hop up and run away with me for a bit? At least to get you away from your family.”

Scott didn’t know what he was doing. But he found himself behind Rebecca on her Jorvik Warmblood, cantering away from Butter Hill.

“So where do you want to go? Country? City? Little town?” Rebecca asked, not sure where to go.

“As far away from there as possible,” Scott muttered, glancing back at the Buttergood mansion on the hill. 

“I think that would be Jorvik City then,” Rebecca decided out loud, pushing Midnightwarrior faster, the three of them thundering through New Hillcrest and across South Hoof. Scott looked around in awe, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been to South Hoof, or anywhere outside The Harvest Counties. It seemed so silly, it was all just a few miles away, yet he was kept up in that tiny little pocket of Buttergood land. 

“Is this what it’s like?” he muttered as they crossed the bay to Fort Pinta on the ferry.

“Hmm?”

“To be able to run free?” he was glad he was sitting behind her so she couldn’t see his blush.

“You don’t get out much, do you?” she asked instead of answering him.

“And go where? Aside from the stables and a few shops there isn’t really anywhere to go in Harvest Counties.”

“And I’m guessing Junior keeps you busy,” she assumed, Midnightwarrior carrying them off the ferry.

“Yup. Junior always needs something. Or Daddy,” he said the word bitterly. 

“Am… am I going to get you into trouble?” she asked, worried now. She had heard very nasty things about Junior and Valdemar Buttergood, she hoped they wouldn’t punish Scott.

“They’ll have to notice I’m gone, which they probably won’t. And what are they going to do? Make me sleep in the tool shed? I do that already, it’s not bad with a few sleeping bags on the ground for cushion,” Scott wondered why it was so easy to talk to her. Was this how it was with people who weren’t his family? He was so used to dealing with his blood and the GED tramping around their property. It was strange talking to someone who wasn’t sneering at him like he was worthless.

“Well I’ll try to get you home before they notice,” Rebecca said in an upbeat voice, freezing a bit when Scott grumbled.

“It’s not home,” he corrected her. He felt her tense up at his harsh tone and he felt a wriggle of guilt in his stomach. 

“Sorry, you didn’t- you don’t know,” he apologized and she relaxed.

“You’re right, I don’t. I can’t imagine what your family life is like. I’m sure you and Robert are the only two that have a positive relationship anymore, or maybe I’m just making assumptions,” she added in case she was wrong.

“Not really, he and I don’t really talk much. He’s always sneaking off to Crescent Moon Village or New Hillcrest, he seems happy though, like he has friends,” Scott said a bit sadly. Somehow Robert had managed to escape the scorn and disgust of the nearby farms and towns, everyone there seemed to love him. But Scott? They glared at him, whispering snide comments, he was just another no good Buttergood to them, just the same as Junior and Father.

“Isn’t that the bus?” he realized they had cantered beyond the bus stop, leaving Fort Pinta behind.

“I thought we’d go all the way to Mistfall and catch the bus there. More nature and open air,” Rebecca informed him.

“Ah okay. Aren’t you hot in those gloves?” he asked, looking over her shoulder at her gloves and long sleeves completely covering her arms.

“Nope!” she answered with a smile, “what, you have a hand fetish and want to see my hands?”

“What? No!” he stammered, wondering why she would ask such a thing. But she laughed at his response.

“So what do you do? In your spare time I mean. You can’t spend every waking moment doing Junior’s bidding,” Rebecca asked to change the topic.

“Internet and books, mostly,” he admitted, embarrassed.

“What kind of books?”

“Legends, mythology, cryptozoology, that sort of stuff.”

“Oh! Fun! I’m a sucker for Greek myth myself, but I’d love to learn more about Jorvik’s legends. Aideen is particularly fascinating,” Rebecca said with a funny grin.

“Yeah, Jorvik has some weird stuff, experts can’t really figure out where some of the legends around here come from, they don’t seem related to Norse or Celtic mythology. Or Greco-Roman.”

“Oh?” Rebecca asked, curious and still grinning.

“One theory is Aideen is a mix of Etain and Minerva, some sort of virgin horse goddess. But there is evidence of Aideen existing in ancient Jorvik tradition before the Romans or the Vikings, or even the Celts. Jorvik is also one of the few places where a cult has remained into modern times. Most pagan religions essentially were wiped out by Christianity, but Aideen always maintained a cult here, even getting written into the major religions by the people who live here,” Scott feared this was getting too weird, but Rebecca was listening eagerly, looking back at him. Somehow Midnightwarrior knew where to go.

“What do you mean? Worked into the major religions how?” Rebecca asked.

“Identifying Aideen as various angels or saints or whatever, that sort of thing,” Scott shrugged.

“Interesting… how do vampires and werewolves fit in?” Scott didn’t answer immediately, looking at the forest around him. It was so green and quiet and the plants were so big. And there were so many animals, he couldn’t believe the underlying chatter of birds and rodents.

“Huh?” he asked, realizing she had spoken.

“Vampires and werewolves? Are they like witches and magic where they exist?”

“Well of course! Why wouldn’t they?” Scott declared, bewildered by her doubt.

“There are plenty of weird things around Jorvik, I wouldn’t be surprised if I ran into a werewolf one of these days.”

“You should be worried about vampires more than werewolves,” Scott pointed out, surprised when she smirked back at him.

“I’m not so worried about you,” she teased.

“I’m not a vampire!” he protested.

“You are rather pale and keep covered, and you have a very defined facial structure,” she continued to tease.

“You think I’m a vampire?” he asked, now curious.

“Not really, but you would definitely make a good classical Dracula for Halloween or a costume party! Now then, we are here!” Rebecca declared, Midnightwarrior coming to a halt. The pair dismounted and Rebecca gave the horse a pat.

“Have a good day!” she bid her horse and he walked up a ridge to watch and graze.

“You’re just going to leave him?”

“Yeah he’ll be fine,” Rebecca said with a wave of her hand, “if something happens he’ll let me know.”

“What does that mean?” Scott asked but did not get an answer as Rebecca grinned at him. A bus approached and she got on before he could press her for details.

“Oh, where do you want to go in the city?” Rebecca asked, realizing she didn’t have a destination in mind.

“I don’t really care,” he admitted.

“Aideen’s Plaza might have some fun book shops. Governor’s Fall probably does as well. I haven’t seen a bookstore open in the mall yet, although they do sell books at The Purple Pony, if you’re into comics and novels.”

“Hey, you kidnapped me, you pick,” he pointed out, fighting back a smile.

“Oh. Oh dear. I didn’t plan for this responsibility,” Rebecca admitted, biting a finger as she thought.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“Umm, Aideen’s Plaza is quieter, and I wouldn’t mind looking around bookshops if you don’t.”

“You kidnapped me, you pick,” it was getting harder for him to fight a smile as he teased her and she got flustered, not wanting to bore him.

“Well you said you like books, so, bookstore?” she offered, still not deciding for herself.

“Your pick,” he said again.

“Aideen’s Plaza,” she finally decided, clearly still worried about boring him.

 

“Ah. So that’s why it’s called Aideen’s Plaza,” he muttered when he saw the big statue in the middle. 

“Yup! Now I have no idea where a bookstore is so start looking!” she declared. 

“I’m just going to follow you,” he let her know, hiding a smirk when she pouted.

“Making me do all the work,” she muttered in mock annoyance and pretended to stomp off, Scott trailing behind her.

“There’s the inn, the dance studio, the shop vendors, the flower shop, the cafe,” Rebecca muttered, ticking off the locations she knew in her head as she made her way toward the fountain. 

“Now, if I was a bookshop, I’d be in one of the creepy back alleys,” she decided out loud, making Scott snort.

“Sounds like a great idea.”

“Ehh, this place is nothing compared to Pier 13. The worst that’ll happen is a pigeon or fox might try to steal food from your pockets,” Rebecca warned him, picked an alley, and headed off to explore.

It took a bit of alley exploring but they did, in fact, find a small tucked away second hand bookshop. It was like all second hand bookshops should be: dusty, cramped, and felt like home.

“‘Keeping Aideen’,” Rebecca picked up a book and read the title, studying it for a moment before she opened it and read a bit while Scott looked through the piles. There were all sorts of books, fiction and nonfiction, new and old. 

“Ah, that’ll get you in trouble with the Keepers,” the bookkeeper told Rebecca with a grin. Scott blinked, bewildered. He could have sworn the old man tending the shop had pink eyes for a moment.

“Oh? It’s anti Keepers?” Rebecca asked, her interested piqued.

“Aye, heh, it’s anti trappers alright,” the bookkeeper agreed with a smirk, “give me something nice and I’ll let you take it,” he offered.

“Hmm,” Rebecca reached into her bag and dug around.

“Do you have any empty bottles? Or cups?” she asked, pulling out a purple flask. The bookkeeper’s eyes widened and he nodded, digging around for one.

“Noach Cranepoulos! Are you trying to barter instead of getting money for books again!?” an angry voice came from the back before an elderly woman appeared from behind a curtain of beads.

“Sanna!” the bookkeeper, Noach, whined, an empty cup in hand. 

Scott stayed silent and had no idea what was going on. Did Rebecca carry booze with her and use it to barter? 

Sanna glared at the bookkeeper and looked at Rebecca, purple flask still in hand. The old woman’s expression changed from fury to shock, pale eyes darting between the flask and Rebecca’s face.

“Oh,” she whispered, “I have a clean jar in the back.”

And with that the old woman disappeared, sounds of clanging and drawers opening from behind the beads.

“What sort of moonshine do you have?” Scott whispered to Rebecca, and she just smiled at him and handed the flask to the old man behind the counter. Sanna appeared once more, and Noach poured clear liquid into the clean bottle presented to him. Scott didn’t smell anything, and the liquid was clear. It looked like water. Half a flask of water was worth an old book? 

“Let us know if there is anything else, any resources, and we’ll be happy to find it for you!” Sanna promised, eyeing the clear liquid with a gleeful grin, as Noach handed back the flask and Rebecca closed it once more. 

“I’m sure I’ll be back for more, now if you don’t mind we’ll keep looking around!” Rebecca said with a pleasant smile, nudging Scott to resume browsing.

Scott busied himself looking at books, finding many old and tattered books on legends and myths of Jorvik, but he realized he didn’t have any cash on him. 

“I can cover,” Rebecca muttered to him when he opened his wallet and found no cash inside.

“Oh no, that’s fine!” he hissed, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry young man! She more than paid for a dozen books!” Noach from the counter called, causing Rebecca to return to the counter and put her backpack on the dusty wood.

“I’m glad I found you guys, I had no idea you were here!” she told Noach, digging into her backpack once more.

“I am glad you found us as well, it is an honor, and if you need anything-” Noach promised, his voice stopping as Rebecca began pulling out crystals.

“Sanna!” Noach called, the woman coming back out and gasping loudly.

Scott looked over, seeing blue and pink crystals in Rebecca’s hands. What the heck?

“I think you two may have use for these, consider it an open tab,” Rebecca offered. Honestly Rebecca had never met them before, but she knew Sanna and Noach recognized her. They had magic, they knew magic when they saw it. And Rebecca knew finding teachers and trade partners would be beneficial. 

“Oh!” Rebecca remembered while the old couple remained silent in shock, “my friend, Scott, he is interested in myth, legends, creatures, that sort of thing. I’m sure he’d appreciate something on werewolves or vampires, if you have anything specific.”

Scott found himself offered obscure books he had never heard of hidden in cobwebs and corners of the shop. “The King’s Vampire”, “100 Years of Blood”, “The Day of the All Flesh”, “Son of Moon”, “Vultures and Wolves”, the pile got taller and he felt overwhelmed.

“Where did you get all these books?” Scott managed to ask in slightly afraid awe. His fear grew with the wide smiles of Noach and Sanna.

“You are a believer, aren’t you?” Sanna asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Well, yes, of course werewolves and vampires and all that are real-”

“You’ll enjoy this!” Noach dropped another book on the growing pile in Scott’s arms. 

Rebecca, meanwhile, stood to the side and giggled.

By the time Scott managed to get out of the shop he had over a dozen books, but thanks to Rebecca they would be mailed to Rebecca’s stable. Not Rebecca’s place, her stable. Where did Rebecca live? 

“So, want to find another bookstore?” Rebecca asked with a grin, Scott going pale.

“No. No. I don’t know how you found that one but I’m bookstored out for the day, thank you,” Scott reassured her.

“Well do you want to go back yet?”

Scott grimaced at the idea. The bookstore may have been overwhelming, but it was still early in the day and he did not want to return to Butter Hill yet. Or ever, for that matter. But at least not yet.

“Would you prefer something a little more modern?” Rebecca teased. 

“A little less dust would be nice,” Scott admitted, fighting back a cough.

“Alright, let’s go to Governor’s Fall!” Rebecca declared, leading him to the trolley.

“What was in that flask?” he asked as they traveled.

“Oh the purple one? Dew collected from flowers around Valedale.”

“I’m sorry- what.” 

“It’s quite valuable to some people,” Rebecca informed him with a smile, amused by his bewilderment. 

“But, it’s dew, how-?”

“Ah! We’re here already! Do you want ice cream?” Rebecca cut him off, smirking at him. Scott was intrigued by her grin, there was something very strange about her. Using water and crystals to buy books weren’t normal things.

“Only if I get some answers,” Scott pouted, following her off the trolley.

“I’ll answer what I can, which isn’t much,” she warned. He grumbled but accepted it, and grumbled more when she covered their ice cream.

“So, I think I know what you are going to ask,” Rebecca started as they sat in the sunshine outside, “I’m very interested in Aideen and magic, I find them to be fascinating topics and would love to learn more. So I try to be friendly and offer valuable magic items to people who I think will be able to teach me more. That’s why I carry around dew from flowers and crystals from Dino Valley.”

“Are you a witch?” Scott whispered, happy she was explaining but desperate to know more.

“That, I don’t know. I’m more aligned with the Keepers, and they don’t look fondly at witches, but I don’t know the difference between a woman who does magic and a witch. So, maybe?” Rebecca said with a shrug and got a scoop of her ice cream.

“The Keepers,” Scott muttered.

“Yes, they are quite active as a cult, and very interested in magic, or things with magical properties at least,” Rebecca explained.

“Are you a druid?”

Rebecca’s expression turned sour and she ate another bite of ice cream before she answered.

“My position with them is… complicated. I don’t think I’ll ever be one, I ask too many questions, and I’m not good at following orders,” Rebecca said bitterly. “That’s why I’m going elsewhere to learn.”

“Do you know any magical creatures?” Scott asked eagerly. It was something he wanted to know and Rebecca clearly didn’t like talking about the druids.

“Unfortunately no, not that I know of,” Rebecca said, smiling once more.

“So, like, can you do magic?” Scott scooted his seat closer, his voice getting lower.

“Kinda? Not really? But yeah? It’s nothing I’d want to do in public though, and I don’t really have control of it. I don’t think the druids want me doing my magic at all, not until they know they can control me.”

“Don’t you mean know that you can control it?”

“No.”

Scott glanced down and took a bite of ice cream, not sure what to say to that abrupt answer. The druids were clearly a bad subject for her.

“Why are you still wearing gloves? We’re not on a horse anymore,” Scott tried to joke and change the subject, and instead he was bewildered when she went pale, looking at her covered hands.

“I prefer to keep them on,” she muttered and swallowed, hiding her hands under her legs. 

Scott stared at her, studying her, trying to reconcile everything he knew about her. 

“Who are you?” he said when he couldn’t figure her out.

“Huh?” she tilted her head to the side, confused.

“You are just… everywhere. You’re normal then you’re magic then you’re smiling then you’re bitter and then friendly and then cold just… what… who are you? How do you do it?” Scott asked.

“I…” Rebecca winced and rubbed the back of her neck, looking away, “there has been a lot going on in my life. So I apologize for acting erratic, I’m just trying to stay positive and happy so I don’t break, you know?”

“You make it sound like you’re trying to stop the apocalypse,” Scott muttered, startled when she laughed too hard.

“Yeah, that’d suck wouldn’t it? Move to a new country across an ocean from home, try to get into a college after flunking out of the last one, be completely alone and not know a single person, and then try to save the world. That’d be some shit,” Rebecca kept laughing, so hard she started to tear up.

Scott had no idea what she was going through, but he had a feeling she was being completely literal. The druids, her hands, saving the world, they were all sore spots that made her hurt. Now he couldn’t tell if she was crying from laughing or laughing to cover up her tears. 

“Do you like clubs?” Scott asked suddenly, desperate to distract her before she dissolved into tears.

“Like, riding clubs?” Rebecca asked, hiccuping and rubbing her face.

“I mean like nightclubs. Or bars or something?” 

“Uh, yeah. Not that big a fan of alcohol unless like, I know I can get to a safe place to sleep. I prefer drinking at home so I can just crawl into bed. Why?” Rebecca asked, confused.

“Well, we’re in a city, I don’t want to go back home yet, there is bound to be some good nightlife around to keep us entertained.”

“Is this a date? Or as friends?” Rebecca asked, skeptical. Scott didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of having friends.

“I… wait! You brought me out here! I should be asking you!” Scott realized and Rebecca grinned.

“Are we friends yet?” she smirked at him.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You know what the word friend means, right?” Rebecca asked, confused now.

“Well, yeah, but… I don’t? I don’t know what it feels like to have a friend,” Scott admitted. 

“It feels, umm, warm. And safe. It’s someone you can trust, someone who you are happy to be around,” Rebecca tried to explain.

“Huh,” Scott thought for a moment, “that seems like a terrible thing.”

“Oh? Oh. Being vulnerable and trusting, that’s not something you really grew up with, is it?”

“Trust can be taken advantage of, weakness will be used against you,” Scott explained what he had learned from his father. 

“Fear is the best way to ensure obedience,” Rebecca commented. 

“Sounds like you know it too,” Scott muttered.

“I understand it. Understanding how people work, think, philosophies and codes they operate by, they are important things to know, sad though they may be.”

“You sound like you’d make a good politician or something,” Scott tried to joke.

“Heh, that’d be a nightmare. My life is already a mess I can’t imagine trying to manage policy and government,” Rebecca smiled again.

“Well, it’s okay if you don’t consider me a friend, so long as I was able to help you by getting you away from your family for a bit,” Rebecca continued and resumed eating her ice cream.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” Scott informed her.

“Alright, we’ll party the night away,” Rebecca grinned and ate the last bit of her ice cream, watching him while he finished his bowl. 

“First I’m going to want to leave stuff in the mall lockers,” Rebecca asked. Carrying a backpack around was not the best idea when clubbing.

“They have lockers?”

“Yup! Free to use, though you have to bring your own lock. It’s great for when you don’t want to carry your purchases all over the city!”

They headed to the mall and sure enough, the lockers were there just as she had said. She shoved a couple items into her pockets and then locked her backpack safely away. 

“Won’t the mall be closed by the time we finish at the nightclubs?” he pointed out.

“Meh, I know how to get in,” she reassured him. Knowing the security guards and the janitors had its perks. 

“Now! To figure out where the nightclubs are…” Rebecca clapped her hands and looked around, as if there would be directions conveniently placed on the walls. 

“So, do you like Western riding or do you just like the cowboy aesthetic?” Rebecca asked as they wandered the streets, looking for nightclubs. 

“Heh, both, though there isn’t much western riding to do in southern Jorvik,” Scott complained.

“I know a few people who set up courses, there aren’t many but at least it is a start,” Rebecca offered.

“Oh really? I would appreciate it, where are they?”

“Josh in Moorland has a simple pole course set up a pole bending course. Marley set up a barrel race at his farm in Silverglade. There is a traveling western course for Morgans, but I have no idea how often those show up. Oh, and there is a zombie themed pole bending race in the mountains between Valedale and Firgrove.”

“Zombies.”

“Yes, there are lighting effects and smoke and fake blood and everything,” Rebecca explained, amused by his confusion.

“I guess three, um, kinda, races are better than nothing,” Scott muttered. 

“I guess Western is more of an American thing, which makes sense,” Rebecca shrugged.

“Yeah, have you ever done it?” Scott asked.

“Well I learned on a quarter horse using western tack, but I never got above a trot. I never competed in any events until I got to Jorvik. But it always looked fun. All horse riding looks fun,” Rebecca said dreamily.

“I guess I know why you came to Jorvik,” he teased, nudging her.

“Is that a smile I see?”

“No!” he sneered and looked away.

“Aww, I was hopeful. At any rate yeah, I came to Jorvik to attend the Hippological Institute, so definitely here for the horses,” she smiled.

“Earlier, you said something about, uh, not doing well in college, was that hypothetical or…?” he didn’t want to pry into sensitive subjects, but he was curious. She definitely didn’t seem to be the common 17 or 18 year old who came to Jorvik for the horses.

“Yeah, that… that’s kind of what happened. I didn’t flunk out, but I did withdraw before I could. I just… I got sick. In my brain I mean, very depressed and anxious and just not good. It took me years to recover and function again.”

“College isn’t for everyone,” he tried to offer some solace.

“Yeah, and I just felt like I was drifting there. I tried to pick a degree and I couldn’t settle. I wanted to learn, but most things I wanted to learn I didn’t want to make a career out of, or the careers I could have made out of it were unappealing to me. I tried a science degree, an English degree, and finally settled on a Classics degree. But it seemed like my options were become a Latin teacher or go on to grad school and go into law. I realized just because I loved learning a topic didn’t mean I could, or would make a career from it. But with my mental health falling apart and my grades plummeting, I just… withdrew from school and, honestly, everything else.”

“It seems like you’re in a better place now, since you are going to try school again, and you’re here,” he tried to be supportive.

“I’m absolutely terrified of going back to school. I tried going back to school, I tried getting jobs, full time or part time, I couldn’t keep up with anything. And then I got this dumb idea to move to an entirely different country to try to attend school? My parents thought I was nuts when I told them I applied to the program here, and we were all surprised when I got accepted. Heh, listen to me rambling about my problems! I’m not very good at giving you a fun distraction from your life,” she apologized and blushed, self conscious of how much she was talking about personal history.

“I don’t mind, it’s nice to hear someone else’s problems for once. Not that I enjoy hearing about your problems, not that I mind! It’s just a shame you have them!” Scott tried to explain without sounding like an asshole, making her laugh. 

“It’s a bit refreshing thinking about my problems, actually, I’ve been so swamped with everything since I got here that I’ve barely been able to think. It is oddly comforting thinking about how small and personal my problems are compared to other peoples. Like yeah, my brain is broken, but that is a personal problem that I can deal with, it won’t kill me.”

“Do you at least feel better now that you’re here? Or do you still feel like you’re drifting?” 

“I’m still terrified and anxious, but I’m supposed to be here. That’s comforting.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, a guess the easiest way to put it is magic. When I first met Midnightwarrior, I just… I felt like I had come home after a long time away. I don’t know how school will go, I don’t know how I’m going to afford a place to live or how I’ll stay in Jorvik, I just know it’ll be okay as long as I’m here with Midnightwarrior.”

“You really love your horse,” Scott noted. 

“Yes, I love him like he is my own soul,” she said with a funny smile, and again Scott got the impression that she was being literal but he didn’t know how. 

“So are we just going to keep walking past this nightclub?” Scott asked, trying his hardest not to smirk. For some reason he didn’t want to smile, it felt like he would lose a challenge somehow.

“I’m ready to go in if you are!” she chirped and the pair got in line, showed their IDs, and got into the pounding music and flashing lights.

Talking was difficult due to the noise, which lead to a great deal of shouting. Rebecca got herself water that she drained in one go, shouting that she wasn’t dumb enough to leave a drink to dance, while Scott got himself a proper alcoholic drink.

“A what!?” she shouted with a laugh, not sure she heard the name right.

“Adios Motherfucker!” he shouted back and pointed to the bartender making it. Rebecca looked and her jaw dropped when she saw the mix of drinks going into the glass.

“You’re gonna be gone!” she yelled with a laugh.

“It is named well!” he laughed, quickly covering his mouth to hide his smile. She smirked but said nothing. He scowled at her and took the drink from the bar, taking a sip. Yup, he was going to be fucked up if he drank this too fast, or had too many. 

“Hey,” she shouted, grabbing his sleeve and pulling on it to get his attention, “how are you when you drink?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like are you an angry drunk, do you get nasty, sleepy, giggly? That sort of thing? I want to know what I’m dealing with if I’m responsible for getting you back safe,” she explained, clearly worried. 

“This’ll be the only one, I promise,” he didn’t know why he said that. When he had a chance he would drink quite a bit. But she was right, he wasn’t getting himself home, she would have to deal with him. She had enough to deal with, he didn’t want to add his drunk ass to the list.

“Okay! Awesome!” she looked visibly relieved and gave him a double thumbs up. 

“Do you want me to wait for you while you finish your drink? It’d be spilled on the dance floor,” she asked and he waved for her to go, giving her a thumbs up while he turned on his bar stool and watched her, sipping his drink slowly. They should have eaten real food before doing this, the alcohol was going to hit him hard. He was just going to have to go very slowly and chow down on bar food. But he didn’t want to leave Rebecca alone on the dance floor long, he was already losing her in the crowd and saw a guy get off his seat and follow Rebecca into the dancing horde. 

Rebecca, meanwhile, had found a group of women to dance with. She couldn’t make out their names in the shouting and dancing, their slurred speech didn’t help either, but they pulled her into their circle, grinding and laughing. She glanced back at Scott and waved at him, giving him a thumbs up so he knew she was doing okay. He returned the gesture, glad she had found a group to be with. 

Scott forced himself to drink slowly, and managed to only drink a third of his glass before Rebecca fled the crowd to get another drink of water. 

“I’m in the wrong clothes for this!” she shouted with a laugh, long jeans and long sleeves did not mix well with a packed dance floor. 

“You should have another glass!” Scott suggested after she drank the new cup from the bartender. She nodded and motioned for another water.

“Are you having fun at least?” she asked, worried.

“Yeah, been ages since I’ve had good booze,” he said, catching his smile before it could appear. No. No smiling. He was not going to smile for her. It was a challenge he would win.

“At least you are getting something out of today!” she pointed out, happy that he was having a good time, “I guess I’m not so bad, even if I’m not your friend!” she teased.

“I never said you were bad!” he pouted and she stuck out her tongue at him and nudged him with her elbow. 

“Oh! I love this song!” she shouted and dove back into the throng of dancers. Without her there to see he let himself smile. This was all so new and foreign to him, spending time with someone and actually enjoying it. He liked it, but he had a bad feeling it wouldn’t last. Good feelings never lasted, not for Buttergoods. His smile soured at that, turning into a scowl and he took a drink.

“Hey!” shouting and nudging got Scott’s attention and he looked up at a man he didn’t know.

“That chick you were talking to, you her boyfriend?” the man shouted. 

“What? No!” Scott said before realizing that was the man who had followed Rebecca into the crowd before. But the man had left as soon as he got the answer he wanted.

“Aw fuck, he better not fuck with her,” Scott muttered, trying to see Rebecca in the mix of bodies.

Fuck booze, he’d feel terrible if Rebecca had a bad night because of a creep.

Now how to find a short woman in a crowd...

Thankfully Rebecca was dancing with her hands up, the only arms with long sleeves and gloves on, and Scott grabbed her by the hand so he could get to her in the crowd.

His stomach dropped when he saw her expression of terror at being grabbed by an unfamiliar hand. When she realized it was him she relaxed and smiled, squeezing his hand, getting closer to him.

“Ready to dance?” she screamed, and he had to guess her words based on her lips. Oh no, he really liked looking at her lips. He nodded dumbly, suddenly not sure what to do at all. What did he do with his arms, or his legs, or the rest of him? Did he jump? Did he sway?

She grinned at the look of confusion on his face and grabbed his other hand, pulling him so that they were pressed together.

“Just move! I don’t know what I’m doing either!” she reassured him before she began bouncing and moving. She loosened her grip on his hands but he held fast. He didn’t want to be swept away from her, and the touch felt… nice? She returned the gesture and held firm to his hands, but he liked how it felt. It was secure, but he didn’t feel like he was being crushed. 

Scott found himself mirroring her, bouncing and moving his hips and shoulders, trying his damnedest not to smile down at her as she beamed up at him. 

A hand clapped down on Scott’s shoulder, making him look back and catch a glare of the man from before, at least until the man shoved Scott to the side.

“Excuse you!” Rebecca shouted, insulted by the stranger’s rudeness. 

“Dibs!” was his response, along with grabbing Rebecca and grinding into her.

“Get off!” she shouted while Scott returned the favor and grabbed the man’s shoulder, pulling him away.

“She’s not interested!” Scott yelled, ducking out of the way when the man tried to punch him in the face. 

Scott was totally down for a bar fight and squared up. That was the moment Scott Buttergood learned something very important: Rebecca fought dirty.

The man barely had time to realize Rebecca had grabbed him, his attention on Scott until her knee slammed up into his crotch. He yelped in pain, slumping forward. Rebecca pulled to the side, out of the way, and slammed her elbow into the man’s back, using all the weight she had to drop him to the floor. 

“I said get off!” she shouted at the groaning man on the floor, the club goers around them staring in shock, some of them cheering.

“Well fuck,” Scott muttered, now feeling a bit silly that he was all ready for a fight, fists up and everything. 

Rebecca cast him a look and shrug before beckoning him over.

“Sorry about that,” she said as though it were her fault, and they resumed dancing, Scott now a bit afraid of her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, wondering how she was so calm.

“Yeah, he didn’t hurt me,” she said with a shrug, “I guess you like holding hands,” she teased.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he glanced away, pretending he wasn’t holding her hands again.

“Do you know the phrase touch starved?” he shook her head at her question. Touch starved? He must of heard her wrong. She pulled her hands from his and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He was stiff, bewildered. Should he hug her back? How long was she going to hug him? Why did she hug him? Was she trying to seduce him? This seemed like a long game for seduction if she was just holding his hands and hugging. 

She let him go and pulled away, and when the pressure of her body and arms left his gut kicked him into moving, and before he could process it he was hugging her. She held him again and just swayed gently, not saying anything as he tried to figure out what he was thinking. It was nice. Why was this nice? Physical contact was bad. It had been bad since his mother passed. It was weak, it was vulnerable, it was just… wrong. The only physical contact he should really have was when fucking someone. And even then, he didn’t want to feel vulnerable and exposed.

What was he doing? Why was he holding her close, resting his head on hers, smelling her hair, what was this? 

Disgusting. That’s what his father would say. Disgusting and weak behavior. Physical contact had been about control for so long, was he surrendering to Rebecca by doing this? 

He swallowed hard. There were too many people, too much noise, he couldn’t breath, there wasn’t enough air. 

Rebecca was gone from his chest, his hand felt sweaty in hers. He stumbled after her, led by her hand. He managed to notice an abandoned glass at the bar and wondered if it was his. He didn’t reach for it, he didn’t think he’d be able to grab it. Rebecca was doing something, her hand was gone, where was she? Where did she go? Why did she let go? He could see her at the bar handing cash to the bartender. Paying. You had to pay. That’s right. They didn’t like when you didn’t pay your tab.

She had noticed Scott had gone pale and was breathing hard, shaking as he held her. He didn’t respond to her questions, he didn’t confirm that he was okay, so Rebecca got him out of there. Luckily he followed in a bit of a daze, blinking and looking around when he realized they were standing outside in the cool night air.

“Scott? Are you okay?” he realized she was talking to him and he looked down at her, thinking for a moment before nodding.

“I… weren’t we inside?” he blinked and shook his head, looking around. The nightclub was across the street. When had they crossed the street?

“Yeah you got weird, you stopped responding and you looked sick. Here,” she gave him a bottle of water, “I got it when I payed the tab.”

He didn’t realize how wonderful water tasted, but he managed to stop before he drank all of it. 

“Thanks, I, uh, thanks,” he didn’t know what to say. Rebecca took him by the hand, he was more aware of it this time, and she led him down the street a bit and stopped them at a bench.

“Feeling better?” she asked when they were both sitting down. She picked his cowboy hat off and fanned his face.

“Thanks, and yeah. I don’t really know what happened,” he admitted, ashamed. 

“Maybe you overheated? I know I was getting close,” she muttered and began to fan herself with his hat, “I just asked you about touch starved and you just sorta, stopped responding.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he confessed. It sounds a bit like a vampire thing, being starved and needing touch. 

“Well basically humans are social beings, we need touch to stay healthy. If a human goes too long without positive touching it can affect their emotions and mental wellbeing. You start craving physical contact, hence, you’re touch starved,” she explained.

“So what, everyone should fuck once a day so we all stay happy?” he said with a bit of a scowl.

“No, positive touch isn’t always romantic. It can just be holding hands, hugging, brushing up against a friend or family member, just someone you are close to and comfortable with.”

“Heh, right. Why are we talking about this again?” he asked, getting a bit uncomfortable. He knew why they were talking about it, he just didn’t want to think about it.

“Well at first I was teasing that you are touch starved and that’s why you wanted to keep holding my hands.”

“At first?”

“Now I… I don’t mean to pry into sensitive subjects. I just wonder when you last had a hug. Or are hugs and physical displays of affection also weakness?”

“Of course they are! Affection is being vulnerable, and clouded judgement, and…” he stopped when she put his hat back on his head and she chuckled.

“So yes, you are very touch starved,” she said a bit teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. She nudged him with her shoulder and offered her hand for him to hold. He grumbled and rolled his eyes.

But he still took her hand.

“Does it count if there is fabric, or does it have to be skin on skin contact?” he asked, glancing down at her black gloved hands.

“Was that a weird way of suggesting sex?” Rebecca asked, eyebrow raised and amused.

“I. Uh. Well. No. Did you...? Gloves. I meant your gloves,” he stammered. This was so much in one day he didn’t know if he’d be able to function if it escalated to sex.

She sighed and looked at her gloved hands.

“I don’t like showing my hands because it brings up awkward questions,” she confessed, “questions I am not allowed to answer.”

“They’re just hands? What, do you have robot hands or something?” he asked, more confused than ever.

“Heh, that’d at least be cool, but no. No fancy prosthetics hands for me,” she complained before she took a deep breath and placed her free hand in her mouth, biting the fabric with her teeth and pulling her hand free from the glove.

For a moment he was silent, staring at the silver streaked hand. He couldn’t quite tell what he was looking at until she dropped her glove into her lap and offered her bare hand to him.

“It’s beauti…” the compliment stopped as he realized what the streaks were. He thought perhaps they were some sort of birthmark, only for horror and pain in his stomach to replace the awe with terror. They were scars. Thick, terrible scars that covered her hand and disappeared down her wrists under her sleeves.

“What-” he stopped himself. She said they brought up awkward questions, that was probably one of them.

“How far do they go?” he decided on asking instead, hoping that wasn’t prying. She pulled her hand from his, crossed her arms, and pulled off her long sleeved shirt. He was glad there as a tank top underneath, he didn’t know how he would react to her being topless. How would anyone react to that?

But his moment of panic was replaced when he saw that both arms had silvery scars racing down her forearms.

“Ahh, that cool air feels good,” Rebecca purred, happy to finally cool off. She pulled off the last remaining glove and plopped the clothes beside her on the bench. 

“So yeah, I’d rather not have people coming up to me in public asking about my hands,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Can… may I touch them?” he didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t want to upset her. 

“I did offer you my hand to look at,” she said with a smirk, flexing her hand and presenting it to him. 

Earlier that night he had seen her drop a man larger than her to the ground in two moves, now she was shaking, twitching when he took her hand and felt the scars. He turned her hand over, inspecting it from all angles, trying to figure out what had happened. He traced the silver trails down her arm, stopping when she shuddered at the touch and her breath hitched.

“Looks like I’m not the only one hungry for touch,” he teased, and she shouted in victory. Shit. He had smiled.

“Yes!” she shouted, jumping up and fist bumping the air, “I got you to smile! I got you to smile! Doesn’t it feel great to smile?” She asked, hands on her hips and smirking at him, leaning toward him. He could lean up, it would be so easy to kiss her. But what if he only wanted to do that because of the touch starved thing?

“Aww, there it goes,” she sighed, “what got you so serious?” she asked, reaching out and touching his face where a smile had been moments before. Her skin was rough from work, split and calloused, even with the gloves on to protect them. Oh fuck, he mentally swore to himself. Did she know what she was doing to him? 

“You okay?” she asked, withdrawing her hand when he shuddered and exhaled heavily.

“No,” he muttered, grabbing her hand and pulling it back to his face. What was he doing. He needed to stop. He needed to get a grip. This sort of physical contact… it was bad. Shameful. If he wanted sex from her he should shove her down and fuck her from behind, not this... sweetness! Fuck, he didn’t even know if he wanted to have sex with her, he just wanted her hands on him. 

She knelt down and touched his face with her free hand. He grabbed and held fast to both, feeling her gentle pressure, the worked skin, against his jaw and cheeks. He turned his head slightly and brushed his lips against one of her wrists.

He needed to stop.

He pressed his lips against her wrist, kissing the scarred flesh, feeling her pounding pulse through his lips.

He needed to stop. 

“May I touch you?” her voice was so soft, so tender, so gentle, so all the words that were everything he didn’t know. How could it be, in one day, everything was so different? 

He needed to stop.

“Please,” he whimpered, surprised he could sound so needy, so desperate, but oh fuck. Maybe she had been right, maybe she had come to help him, he just didn’t realize what he needed.

She pulled her hands away from his face, her fingertips trailing down and unbuttoning his shirt. His heart pounded, had he always breathed this hard? He was anxious, and maybe even scared, of what she was going to do. 

But fuck, the cool air felt amazing on his bare chest, and then there were her hands. She was so careful, barely touching him as she reached under the fabric and around his back. 

His father could go to hell for ever making him afraid of a hug. Fuck being vulnerable or exposed or weak or whatever, it didn’t feel like that at all. It felt safe.

She hugged him, not from a very comfortable position on the ground, but Rebecca had a feeling she wouldn’t be holding it long. Scott’s breathing was hard, he was practically panting as he held her close. 

“We should head back,” she whispered.

“I don’t want to go back there,” he confessed, voice hitching. He didn’t understand why he was tearing up, but he didn’t want to start crying or let her see.

“You can stay with me, if you don’t mind sleeping in a break room of my stable,” she offered.

“I’d…. please. I’d like that.”

He let her go so she could grab her long shirt and gloves. He didn’t touch her as she said hello to a security guard and waltzed into the mall for her backpack. He was practically shaking, but he didn’t touch her on the bus ride back. 

He was distracted when they got off the bus, Midnightwarrior standing there waiting for them without tack. He didn’t ask how the horse had gotten its tack off and placed it in a neat pile. He stayed quiet as Rebecca tacked up Midnightwarrior and mounted. He tried to stay calm when she offered him a hand up.

He almost had a semblance of self control until he was sitting behind her on the Jorvik Warmblood and she leaned back against his chest and told him he could hold her. He gripped her, afraid he was squeezing her too tight, but it felt so good just to feel her against him. He loved how she felt against him, how her hair tickled his nose and lips, how she smelled. He tried to keep his hands stationary, he fought back the urge to feel more of her, but he wanted her to feel just as good, just as safe, as she was making him feel. 

But if this was just her helping him… what if tonight was it? He swallowed hard, afraid to mention it. 

He had to let her go when they reached her home stable, and he stood quietly, albeit fidgeting a bit, as she untacked Midnightwarrior and gave him fresh food and water. Scott wondered if she always had the stall doors open, horses wandering around. 

“Food and water is in there, there is a sink in there, beware of the seals by the way they sleep in that area, bathroom is over there,” she pointed out important things he might have cared about if his mind wasn’t spinning in circles.

“Rebecca,” he bit his tongue. No he shouldn’t ruin this. He shouldn’t bring it up. It’d be okay if it was just tonight. If this was all he got he would be fine.

“Yes, Scott?” she asked.

“I-” don’t ask don’t ruin it, “I had a good time tonight.”

Saved it!

“So did I! Thanks for letting me kidnap you!” she said with a chuckle. 

Okay, he just had to stay cool. Stay calm. Don’t-

“Is this a one time thing?” he blurted, wincing and mentally kicking himself as soon as he said it.

“Huh?”

“Today, tonight, I… ugh,” he groaned and rubbed his face, resuming his vaguely frustrated but pretending not to care pose he so often assumed.

“I was hoping we could do this again. Since, you know, friends hang out with each other, and I consider you a friend at the very least,” Rebecca spoke for him, blushing a bit.

“Friends?” he mumbled, unsure how to feel. He didn’t want to rush past friend right into something more, but he also wanted… he just wanted to touch her. To whatever extent she would let him.

“Or, you know, whatever, we’ll see what happens,” Rebecca added, blushing harder now and looking away. 

“So, uh, over here is the tack room and also where I sleep,” Rebecca started up again, now a bit anxious, not quite sure where this was leading. 

“So, um, I, uh, figured since you probably still want some, um, touching, we could just, you know, sleep next to each other in here,” she winced at the phrasing, knowing it was awkward.

“Feel free to use the shower stall to wash, I don’t think I have any spare clothes that will fit you,” she continued before it could get too awkward, ”I’m going to change out of, you know, these clothes.”

She didn’t want to use the word flee, but that is exactly what she did, running to her closet and grabbing pjs to sleep in before she changed in the privacy of the other tack room. Rebecca had to take a few deep breaths. This was not how she expected the day to end. 

Scott was equally stumped, and found himself standing helplessly in the hallway outside the tack rooms. He took a deep breath and started pacing around. Should he take a shower? He didn’t have anything clean to change into. Should he grab food? He couldn’t stand the idea of food right now. He caught himself in a mirror in the rec room. He was a Buttergood, and a damn fine looking one at that, he reminded himself. He took a deep breath, straightening up. He had been a wreck all evening, and Rebecca had taken care of him, now it was time for him to be in charge and take care of her. 

“Are y-”  
“AH!”  
“Sorry!” Rebecca apologized for startling Scott, and she fought back a snicker at his yelp, “were you going to take a shower?”

“No! No, I don’t have anything to change into after so, I figured, not much point,” he explained. Calm. Breath. Suave. “Unless you wanted to shower together,” he suggested with a grin.

“I mean, I’m okay with that,” Rebecca said with a shrug, masking her internal screaming. 

“Maybe later,” he managed to squeak, “it’s been a long day, we should, you know.” He was trying desperately to hold on to that calm suave feeling he had when peacocking in the mirror. 

“Alright, let’s go,” she opened the door to the tack and bedroom, passing through and holding the door open behind her. He followed her through, trying to stay calm. He was not going to be overwhelmed, he was going to show her… something about control or sexiness or something he couldn’t remember anymore as the door closed.

“So, Mister Skin Hungry, do you still want that hug?” she asked as she rolled out the bedrolls and blankets she used as a bed.

“No,” he managed to say without a quiver in his voice.

“Oh?” she flattened out the top blanket and looked up at him, eyebrow raised.

“I want to touch you,” he didn’t know how he managed to say that while looking into her eyes.

“Ah, I see,” she drawled, standing up and walking over to him, “Is this you wanting to get back some control?” she asked, taking off his hat and hanging it on a shelf.

“I want you to feel it too,” he whispered, amazed that his voice was almost gentle in its huskiness. He didn’t want to be any louder, his quiet voice drawing her in, making her lean closer to him.

“That’s very sweet of you,” she said with a smile before it faded, her lips parted, her eyes on his lips.

“Scott,” she whispered and looked up to his eyes, “touch me.”

And he did, rushing at her and holding her close, his lips on her neck, her shoulders, her face, her mouth. She moaned and arched into him, pressing into his chest and leaning her head back as she panted. He held her, his hand catching them as he got them onto the blankets. There were so many things he wanted all at once, he was dizzy trying to keep focused on one thing at a time. How could he only do one thing when she was pressing her hips into his, her arms slipping under his shirt to get to his skin. 

No. He needed to be in control, he couldn’t let her make him go crazy.

He pulled away from her hands, throwing his jacket and shirt to the side and undoing his belt, getting rid of that as well. He took her hands in his own, lacing their fingers together so she could no longer touch his chest. He leaned back down, pressing against her, thrilled by her eager smile as he stretched his arms forward, pulling hers over her head. Ideally he would chain her hands so she couldn’t touch him so he could focus on making her feel good, but he would have to make do with one hand holding her hands above her head so she couldn’t interfere.

He kissed her neck, listening to her breathing, feeling her pulse, and moved his hands from hers, so he was holding her hands fast above her head. Her breathing hitched and quickened and he smiled against the crook of her neck. He could feel her wrists flexing in his hand, wriggling and trying to escape. She felt wonderful, moving and writhing against him, and his free hand slowly trailed down her chest.

“Let go,” it was so quiet he wasn’t sure he really heard it.

‘What?” he lifted his head from her neck, surprised to see her face pale, expression blank.

“Let GO!” she screamed in panic, breaking her hands free and shoving him off her.

“What? What did I-?” he stopped and swallowed hard as she curled into a ball, facing away from him.

“Aw fuck,” he muttered, realizing he had done everything wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be about control or power, he wanted her to feel the same safety he had felt. Instead he had turned it into a power trip. He was just another Buttergood who ruined things because they couldn’t stop thinking about being in total control. 

“I’m sorry, I… I got caught up in thinking I needed to be in charge, instead of just… I should have just made you-”

“Have you ever been tortured?” her question stopped him in his tracks. He realized this wasn’t just about him, this was about her. 

“No,” he muttered. He wanted to get closer, he wanted to see her face, but he didn’t want to do more harm.

“Eight days. Eight days I was strung up by my hands.” He didn’t think he could look at her face now, feeling sick. What the fuck had happened? Who would do that to her?

“Don’t… don’t ever,” she hissed, “just… not my hands… don’t hold me down by my…” she hiccuped, sobs coming out before she could stop them.

“I swear, it won’t happen again,” and he meant that. He was going to do better. He was going to be better. He didn’t want to make her cry ever again. 

“Can I get you anything? Water? Food? Tissues?” he asked, wanting to get out but not wanting to just leave her.

“Water,” she managed to croak. With a reason to leave he made himself scarce. He stared at his reflection, disgusted by himself. Control. Power. Being in charge. All the things that were important to Buttergoods. Those had no place with him and Rebecca. He wanted to make her feel safe and warm, he wanted her to feel like he was her friend. 

But could he ever really get away from it? He was a Buttergood, could he change his ways?

He knew he had to try when he retrieved a bottle of water and entered the tack room again, Rebecca clutching herself and panting. He cracked open the cap so she could open it easily, and he placed it where she could see it. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t be able to say that enough, I won’t be able to undo what I did. I’m a Buttergood, a family rotten and vile through and through. I don’t know if I can change that. But I’m going to try. I promise, I’m going to try to be better than my family name,” he promised her, not looking at her. He shouldn’t look at her, he shouldn’t even be near her. He didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her, or count her as a friend.

She sat up and reached for the water, taking a long drink. 

“Can… can we just… hold each other? No kissing or… anything?” she mumbled, shy.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, cautiously sitting next to her on the blankets. Should he touch her, or let her make the first move? He decided to be wary and instead slipped under the top layer of blankets. The tack room was not a warm place at night. He rested on his side, facing her, eyes closed. He was going to let her do this when she was comfortable.

After some time her breathing returned to normal and she crawled under the blankets with him. She leaned her forehead against his chest, her breath hot and ragged as she calmed down. Her arm was cold against his skin as she draped her arm over his waist, holding his back. He followed her lead, gently resting his arm over her waist and his hand resting against her back.

She relaxed into him, falling asleep. Scott, however, couldn’t sleep. Being this close, her touch, she still managed to make him feel warm and safe, even after he had upset and hurt her. He wanted her to feel that same. He didn’t want her to be scared, he didn’t want anyone to hurt her ever again. But whatever she was involved in, whoever she was up against, was something beyond him. He wanted to hold her forever, and he wished he could make her feel safe enough that she wouldn’t tremble and whimper in her sleep.


End file.
